


Let's try this (Again?)

by Lord Chungus (Lord_Chungus), Lord_Chungus



Category: Magical Girl Noir Quest, Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Chiaki does not like people, Chiaki is a drunk, F/F, Madoka is too pure, Peggy Sue, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-06-12 02:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Chungus/pseuds/Lord%20Chungus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Chungus/pseuds/Lord_Chungus
Summary: Your name is Chiaki Matsuda, and you are fed up with this goddamn bullshit.You had undergone the operation in Siberia expecting to come out in one piece, now able to use the Golden Weapons.You had not expected to wake up in the body of middle-schooler Homura Akemi, who you can only assume to be you before you lost your memories.Keeping consistent with your habit of fucking yourself over, Homura didn't seem to have a journal, or diary, or anything.Now you've got to go to deal with an evil Kyubey, a civilian Sayaka, and a sane, normal Pinky.Because of fucking course you do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, looks like I'm writing another thing.  
> If you haven't read MGNQ, check it out at http://magicalgirlnoir.com/  
> In other news, back to the story!

Your eyes open to see a hospital ceiling, a rather common occurrence in your line of work. You groan, not even bothering to try sitting up in your groggy state. Your hand fumbles around on the counter next to your bed as you try to find your glasses, and you eventually find a pair of bulky red spectacles that looked like something worn by small children. Or perhaps prostitutes pretending to be small children, though you aren’t exactly an expert on that.

That your glasses, usually small and round, have been replaced by these chunks of glass with a red frame is your first warning some something was wrong.

The second is your hair.

It’s long and braided into pigtails, a far cry from your usually short mess. Now, it’s well within the realm of possibility that the operation had left you unconscious long enough for your hair to grow out so far, but that still doesn’t explain the pigtails, or the glasses, or how you had gone from an underground laboratory to a hospital in the middle of some city.

You get out of bed, sobered by the realization that something was very wrong with this situation. You note idly that you also happen to be sober in the literal sense, a state of being that you are, ah, unused to, to say the least.

An alarming thought strays into your head, and you immediately transform into your magical girl outfit. Your shield is just as busted up as normal, the scar in the middle as ugly as ever, and you turn it a few ticks clockwise. It reluctantly responds to your demands and spits out a portable mirror the size of your head.

You still weren’t sure how or why you had acquired these items, but a mirror was hardly the weirdest thing your shield has given you over the years. Looking into the mirror, your fears are confirmed.

You look far younger than usual, more like a cute child than the depressed young woman you usually appear to be. Even your scars are gone, the ugly marks of combat that lined your torso and neck replaced with unblemished skin. All in all, you’re pretty sure you know what’s going on.

You’ve traveled back in time.

Now, this may seem like an odd idea at first, but it fits perfectly with all the bullshit going on in your life.

Golden weapons? Magical girl god, who may be your ex-girlfriend? Weapon-loving technomancer who adopted you as her big sister? Cute idols who got jealous when you spent too much time with the green-haired girl who’s in love with you? Really, this was just continuation of the trend that got set the second you laid your hand on a bottle of whiskey.

“Miss Akemi? Is everything all right?”

As if to confirm your theory, a nurse seemed to call you by that name. _Homura Akemi_. It’s what Pinky called you, (when she wasn’t busy being an insane eldritch god,) and the person you think you were before you lost your memory.

You sigh, deciding to go along with the flow.

Responding to the nurse, you realize that getting booze and smokes is going to be rather hard, now that you look like a terrified kitten given human form.

It’s rather telling that _that's_ the epiphany which terrifies you the most.

 

* * *

 

Just over a week later, you’re still not sure what the fuck you’re supposed to be doing. You’ve moved into your apartment, gotten replacement glasses that don’t look as stupid, cut your hair, and stolen enough tobacco and booze to last you the month. Shame for all the bars and convenience stores that went out of business because of that, but it was the price you paid for happiness. Well, not even happiness really. Less sadness?

Anyway, you were currently standing at the door to your class, waiting for the teacher to stop rambling about her ex and wondering if transforming just to get a pack of cigarettes would be worth it.

“Now that that’s out of the way, Let’s give a big warm welcome to our new classmate! Come in Miss Akemi, don’t be shy!”

Taking that as your signal, you walk through the door (glass) into the classroom, (also glass).

You’re pretty sure most of the students saw you waiting outside, but they still gasp and murmur when you walk in. You can sort of see why.

Your hair is short and messy, uncombed sides only going as far as your chin. The bow that should be on your chest is completely missing, your skirt is ruffled, and you seem to be the only girl in the class without any sort of hair accessories.

“There was a mistake with my papers,” you say to the teacher, Mrs. Salt tamer or whatever it was. “My name’s not Akemi, it’s Matsuda. Chiaki Matsuda.”

“Oh, apologies miss Matsuda,” says the teacher. “I’ll have to have another look over them. But in the meantime, could you please show the class how your name is spelled?”

Well shit.

You’re not entirely sure how your name is spelled. It was just something you came up with when you were too hungover to remember that everyone just called you Murderface, and you’ve never had to write it down for any documents.

You turn to the board, grunting in confirmation. Well worst case scenario, they just think you have cruel parents. What are they going to do, say you spelled your own name wrong? They would probably be right, but you still doubt anyone in the class had the balls to try that.

You write something on the board, hoping that it’s either close enough that they don’t find it odd, or so sloppy that they can’t even read it. The teacher doesn’t seem to know how she should react to such poor handwriting, so you go ahead and walk over to the nearest empty desk. Taking the time to actually look over the class you’re going to be joining, you freeze as you see a familiar face. Two, to be exact.

A few feet in front of you sits Sayaka Miki, blue-haired bitch, your least favorite person in the world, and girlfriend of your best friend. Or were you best friend of her girlfriend? She had known been dating Kyoko long before you entered the picture, but you were pretty sure Kyoko had never set her on fire. That has to count for something.

But you are far more interested in the girl sitting behind her.

The first thing you notice is that she’s cute. And you mean _seriously_ cute. The kind of cute that made you want to pick her up and cuddle her, here and now.

The second thing is how nervous she seems. She briefly meets your gaze, before turning away and blushing. You aren’t sure if it’s because she thinks you’re hot, or if she’s just frightened and nervous. Kyoko had once said that you had “a thousand-yard stare that hunts down other thousand-yard stares and eats their corpses.” You might have hated the name, but you were called Murderface for a reason.

The third is that she looks identical to Pinky, the insane witch who visited you in your timestop to make cryptic statements, flirt with you, or try to kill you, sometimes all at once.

The girl in front of you looks exactly like that eldritch abomination, minus the teeth, blood, and magical girl outfit.

The teacher keeps on talking as you sit down in your chair, and you have the odd feeling that you knew why you had come to this time in particular.

 

* * *

 

To your complete lack of surprise, you are not the model student.

“Miss Matsuda, could you please answer this question?”

The question in question seems to be a math problem, advanced at that. Seeing as how you weren’t a fan of even basic math, you decide to decline this wonderful chance to embarrass yourself.

“Nah,” you said. “I got no clue what the fuck that’s supposed to mean.”

The teacher seems shocked, either at your language or your upfront statement regarding your mathematical capabilities.

“O-oh, right. Children, Miss Matsuda was away from school for quite a while due to a heart condition, so she will almost certainly have trouble with most parts of the curriculum. Please don’t hesitate to help her out if you see her struggling, and Miss Matsuda, don’t be afraid to ask for help. And Matsuda, please try to use appropriate language.”

She continues her lecture, but your attention has already wandered. With your mental focus on the two girls you recognize, you can’t help but overhear them whispering to each other.

“What's with the transfer student?” says Sayaka. “She comes in looking so disheveled, and then she swears at Mrs. Saotome? My bet’s that she’s a delinquent.”

It seems that a few years of time travel haven’t made Sayaka into any less of a total bitch. But how will the murderous goddess respond?

“I’m not sure,” says the pink chick. (You really need a nickname for her.) “She might seem rough, but maybe she’s a nice person? You’ll never know unless you get to know her.”

How the fuck did a cinnamon roll like this turn into the lunatic you know and hate? Where’s the giggling, the blood, the “Homura-chan’s?” Who is this girl, and why is she so nice?

“I hope so,” said Sayaka. “But more likely than not, she’s just a bitch. But I’ll hold off on any judgment until I get to know her, okay Madoka?”

So it seems that Pinky’s real name was Madoka. But that still doesn’t explain why she’s friends with Sayaka. In fact, Sayaka would have a lot of explaining to do when you got back. She had been best friends with Madoka pre-godhood, and you had transferred into her class at some point, but she still claimed to have no knowledge of either you or Pinky.

On second thought, you doubt she would lie about something that could endanger Kyoko.

There’s something fishy about this situation, and you’re going to get to the bottom of it.

You’d get to the bottom of a few bottles first, but you’d be sober and ready to investigate at some point.

Right?

 

* * *

 

The period had finally ended, but it seems that the world refused to allow you any peace and quiet.

“What school did you go to before coming here? Why was there a mistake with your name? Why aren’t you wearing your bow?”

The other girls in your class are bombarding you with questions, with seemingly only Pinky and Sayaka absent from the frothing mass of adolescents. Were you significantly less sober than you currently are, you would reluctantly mumble something resembling an answer before telling the girls in question to fuck off.

As you are, you can't even bring yourself to swear at them. You just glare at them, silently willing each and every one of them to shove their questions so far up their ass that internal organs were ruptured. While not likely or practical, the aforementioned solution would get them away from you, and most likely get them killed without the problems that arose from first-degree murder.

A win-win, in other words.

“Um, Miss Matsuda?”

From behind you comes the voice of Madoka herself. It sounds odd, hearing her call you by your name. Calling you Matsuda, instead of Homura.

“What?” you say, trying and failing to restrain your annoyance.

“I, uh, I saw that you were making some weird faces, so I came to check if you were doing all right. I’m the nurse’s aid, so if you aren’t feeling well, I can take you to the nurse’s office.”

Your first instinct is to tell her to fuck off, but some part of you is saying to wait. If she’s the girl that becomes Pinky, then perhaps you can save her. Stop her from turning into the sadistic god you know she becomes. To that end, you decide to take her up on her offer.

“Yeah,” you say. “I haven’t been feeling so good.”

Madoka brightens up, and if you were a more optimistic person you would say she was excited to talk to you.

On the off chance she is, you know from experience that the excitement will quickly disappear. You follow her as she walks through the glass halls, trying to listen as she points out where everything is.

“There’s the principal's office,” she says. “The gym is down that staircase, the lockers are in that hall, and the nurse’s office is just a bit further.”

She leads you down a glass hallway connecting the two school building. You can see the sign for the nurse's office, and you know that if you’re going to say something, you have to say it now. But how to say it? You obviously want to warn her off contracting, but you were never good with people. Perhaps you should be vague and dramatic? 

Nah, that’ll just leave with tons of questions once Kyubey shows up. What’s he doing, anyway? You’ve been shooting him on sight since you got here, so the two of you haven’t had a chance to talk. Seeing that you’re nearly at the office, you decide to go for the blunt approach.

“Hey, Dokes,” you say. She turns around to look at you, having just barely heard your mumbling. “You ever read Faust?”

“Faust?” she says, forehead scrunching up cutely. “No, I don’t think so. The name sounds familiar, though. Maybe I saw an ad for it?”

“Nah,” you say. “It’s an old German book about a guy who gets fucked over cause he sells his soul to the devil, or something like that. Long story short, don’t make wishes until you’ve had a lawyer read the fine print, and then don’t do it anyway cause you’ll still get fucked over.”

Madoka looks at you, confusion evident on her face.

“Chiaki, what are you talking about?”

You’re not embarrassed. No way. You get yourself into weird social situations all the time, and you’ve survived them by virtue of not giving a shit. You are not embarrassed because Madoka’s looking at you like you should be in the mental hospital. Definitely not.

“So yeah,” you say. “Everyone wants to fuck you over, don’t let em. See ya later.”

You head into the nurse’s office, and to your relief, you now have a headache to justify coming here.

It’s probably just withdrawal from all the things that no teenager should be consuming, but you hope it’s just from social interaction.

If you can’t go half a school day without needing a drink, then you’re just a tad fucked.

 

* * *

 

A few more hours of monotonous lecturing about subjects you don’t understand, you’re finally out of school. You’re on the path back to your apartment when you see a little white shitball in the corner of your eye. He’s trotting through the bushes, white tail just visible over the shrubbery.

You’re pretty sure Madoka and Sayaka are on the path next to yours, so you have an idea why he would be following them. You hadn’t sensed any magic on them during school, so the rat bastard’s probably looking for new contracts. You casually stroll closer so that you can hear what’s going on, and intervene if the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man wannabe tries putting the moves on them.

“That transfer student is so weird,” says Sayaka. Her hands are behind her head as she slowly spins around, a dictionary definition of casual. “Her handwriting’s messy, she swears like a sailor, she smells like she hasn’t bathed in weeks, and I don’t think I saw her trying to talk with anyone the whole day. I’m telling ya, she’s a troublemaker.”

You’d be offended by her comments if they weren’t almost all true. Your mouth was dirty enough that washing it with soap would just dirty the soap, you hadn’t showered at all since you arrived in this body, and you certainly didn’t want to talk with any of the people at the school.

“She does seem rather odd,” says the green one. You don’t recognize her, so she either dies or stays a civilian. From what you’re seeing of her personality, you almost hope it’s the former. Mean, sure, but she’s so aggressively prim and boring that she’ll likely drive you to a killing spree by force of tedium alone.

“Maybe she’s a bit weird,” says Madoka. She seems like a really nice girl, and you’re torn between liking her for how genuinely nice she is and hating her for how optimistic and hopeful she manages to be. “We talked in the hall, and she said some pretty weird things.”

“What kinds of weird things?” says Sayaka. She feigns gasping, putting her hands to her cheeks in faked shock. “Was she flirting with you? Oh, how romantic!”  
“Sayaka!” says Madoka, cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t anything like that. It was just a book recommendation. She was kind of weird about it, and I’m pretty sure she was embarrassed. Personally, I think she’s just really awkward around people. It was actually really cute, seeing her so embarrassed.”

Cute?

“Cute?” says Sayaka. “Does my darling Madoka have a crush?”

“That’s not the word to focus on,” says Madoka.

“I think it is! If you’re describing _Matsuda_ as cute, then you’ve either got a crush or brain-damage.”  

You’re with Sayaka on this one. You are not cute, you’re a moody badass with a drinking problem. No one in their right mind would describe you as cute.

“Not normally,” says Madoka. “But you should have seen her! She was really shy, and then she clammed up when I asked her a question. It was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen!”

“We’re talking about Matsuda, right?”

“Yes, Sayaka.”

“Thousand-yard stare Matsuda, right?”  
“Yes, Sayaka.”

“Looks like she’ll kill you if you try to talk to her Matsuda-”

“Yes, Sayaka. By the way, how are things going with Kyousuke?”

You start to tune out the chatter, and remember what you came here for. Glancing around, you spot Satan The Stuffed Animal trotting towards them, ready to jump in as soon as Greenie finishes parting ways. Being so close to civilians makes the next part more complicated, but you’re good at killing things. Quietly transforming, you turn your shield and ask for something silent.

It complies, gears grinding together as it spits out three throwing knives. Why it wants you to kill the girls is anybody’s guess, but you can handle having two spares. Waiting until the girls round a small corner, you flick the knife at Kyubey.

It lands right in the back of his head, and you watch with pride as his body collapses to the ground. Madoka and Sayaka continue on their way, unaware of what happened mere feet behind them. Mission successful. You stand and wait, watching as the two girls grow farther and farther away on their quest for music.

Eventually, a rustling in the bushes confirms that Kyubey has returned to dispose of his corpse.

 _“That was incredibly rude,”_ he says. _“You obviously know that killing me serves no purpose, yet you continue to do so. Why?”_

“Stress relief,” you say, shrugging. “I have a question for you.”

_“Ask away,”_

“First off, does the word, “Officio” mean anything to you?”

_“Not particularly, no.”_

So it seems that the Officio’s don’t exist yet. You’re not sure how that works, but you chalk it up to timeline shenanigans.

_“Is there any reason why you ask?”_

Instead of responding, you palm your remaining knives into full view.

“I’m going to see how many times I can kill you with these three knives,” you say. “I’ll burn all your corpses, so you should try to avoid dying as much as possible. You should run”

He does.

 

* * *

 

You’re starting to remember just why you love killing Kyubey.

You’ve never really forgotten, but after a few weeks of bridge-mending back in your time, the memories had faded. You remembered liking it, but you forgot just how fun it was. Well, you sure remembered now.

You had killed Kyubey twenty-three times now, and every single body had been burnt to a crisp. In his defense, he had managed to run off with one of your knives, leaving you with only one extra.

You’re underground now, in a construction area for some supermall. You roll over a crate as you chase after him, intent on getting kill number twenty-four, when you hear a familiar voice.

“Hello?” says Madoka. “I heard someone asking for help. Is anyone here?”

She gasps, and starts jogging to her right. Kneeling down, she picks up a battered Kyubey. She still hasn’t seen you, her attention focused on the injured creature in her arms. You debate going over and calmly explaining the situation, but your social skills have only ever failed you.

You pull your arm back, flicking your knife at the still living pile of shit. It once again strikes true, impaling itself inside Kyubey’s skull.

Madoka gasps, slowly rising to her feet as she stares at the corpse. She turns away, falling to the ground more than a few times as she attempts to flee the dead body.

You stay hidden until she’s almost gone, knowing that any action you take can only make the situation worse.

Once you know she won’t detect you, you follow after her. You keep to the shadows, staying just close enough to keep her in your sight without giving your presence away. She meets up with Sayaka a few seconds later, and the hunt continues.

This goes on for less than a minute before you detect a witch.

You had faced a few witches back in your world, usually when a teammate went off the deep end and no one else was around to clean it up, but you were no expert in witch hunting. What you were sure of was that you were a few feet away from a witch's barrier.

You’re also sure that the girls you’ve been trailing are inside the barrier.

Just your luck.


	2. Fucking Normies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chiaki rushes in to save Sayak and Madoka.

As you entered the witch's barrier, your only thought was that this fucked up most of your plans.

  
Well, that wasn't your only thought, but it was the only one that wasn't some variation of "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  
And calling your ideas 'plans' may be going a bit far.

  
But long story short, shit was fucked.

  
You pause as you enter the barrier, trying to find any trace of the two girls. To your disappointment, you can’t find a single trace of them. You weren't known for your magic tracking, and you certainly couldn't check for normal humans, or even potential magical girls.

  
It seems that you'll have to do this the old-fashioned way.

  
"Is anyone here?" you yell. "Can you hear me?"

  
Your only response is the deafening silence inside the labyrinth.

  
You swear to yourself and turn your shield, pulling out an anti-material sniper rifle complete with a heat vision scope.  
You put your eyes to the scope and look around, hoping to find some trace of Madoka and Sayaka.

  
Nothing pops up, but you hear a giggling sound from behind you.

  
You roll forwards, rifle coming up to point at the familiar trying to sneak up on you. It’s white and fluffy, almost like an evil fluffballs complete with supervillain mustashes.

  
You almost feel bad, using a rifle so completely overkill on such a pathetic looking thing, but you also have more practical concerns.

  
Keeping your eyes on the familiar, you pull out a silenced pistol and pull the trigger. The familiar explodes into white chunks, and you start running.

  
The gunshot would alert more familiars to your presence, but the silencer should reduce the amount you have to deal with.  
Shooting families whenever they pop up, you continue your search for the two girls.

 

 

* * *

 

  
You can't help but notice how the familiars have been petering out lately.

  
Either you've killed most of them, which you doubt, or they've found less dangerous prey to torment.

  
You get the sinking feeling that the trace of color that you found with the heat vision has something to do with it.  
As you get closer, you can hear voices in the distance.

  
"Get away from us!"

  
The unmistakable voice of Sayaka Miki shrieks as she struggles against the familiar, trying to keep it away from her best friend. Madoka is off to the side, crying as she tries to figure out how to help.

  
She's so focused on the struggle in front of her that she doesn't notice the familiar to her side, intent on snacking upon the distracted girl.

  
"Sayaka Miki," you say. 'Get away from that thing, unless you want to get shot."

  
Ignoring Sayaka's panicked shriek, you turn your pistol to the familiar approaching Madoka.

  
Your aim is still as good as ever, and the gunshot is followed by a cry of shock from Madoka.

  
It seems that Sayaka was able to untangle herself in the time it took you to help Madoka, so you take the liberty of killing the familiar that had been assaulting her.

  
Still panting, she turns to you. Her face goes from terror, to shock, before eventually settling on confusion.

  
"Matsuda?" she says. "What are you doing here? What was that? Where are we? What are you wearing? Why do you have a gun? What’s going on?"

  
You sigh, and wish you had a cigarette to help you get through this barrage of questions.

  
Oh wait.

  
You did.

  
Pulling a pack from you shield, you flick out a cigarette, place it between your lips, and light it up. Sayaka's questions seem to have died out, so you take the moment to savour the calming smoke crawling through your lungs.

  
Breathing the smoke upwards, you decide to answer her questions the best you can.

  
"You could call me a magical girl," you say. "You two stumbled your way into a witch's barrier, which contains familliers, the things that were bothering you, as well as a witch. Now if you can shut up and let me work, we should get down to business. Is anyone hurt?"

  
Madoka shakes her head. "No," she says. "I fell over, but that's the worst of it. It would have been a lot worse, if you hadn't come when you had."

  
"Alright," you say. "I take it none of you have ever shot a gun before?" The two of them shake their heads, looking at each other in confusion.

  
"Didn't think so," you say. "I doubt you'll be able to help me that much, even with aweapon, but it's better safe than sorry. I'm going to give you each a gun, and you'll only use it if something sneaks up on you and you need to defend yourself. There will be more familiars the closer we get to the witch, so you might need it."

  
"Wait a second," says Sayaka, voice just as nasally and annoying as ever. "Closer to the witch?" You want us to fight these things? Are you insane?"

  
"Would you shut up for just one second?" you say. If this dumb bitch was seriously trying to start a fight in the middle of a witch barrier, you were going to lose what little shit you had left.

  
"You actually want us to fight these things?" says Sayaka. "We'll be killed! We could barely hold off one of them, and neither of us know how to shoot a gun!"

  
Fucking hell, you're this close to just kneecapping her and being done with this whole thing.

  
"You have two options," you say. "Either you can come with me, and I'll probably keep you safe, or you can try to find the exit on your own while I kill the witch. It'll take me an hour or two to find the exit and get you two out, and even longer to find the witch again. That’ll be a real pain, and who knows how many people it will eat while I'm helping you two crybabies back into your cribs."

  
"You little-"

  
"When I said shut up, did you think I was joking? If you keep on acting like a spoiled child, I'll just kneecap you and leave you to your fate. Would make my life a whole lot easier..."

  
You give her a chance to keep her legs intact, and she reluctantly takes it.

  
"Fine. just show us how to shoot."

  
You take out a SMG and a pistol, both with silencers, and hand them to Sayaka and Madoka respectively.

  
You go over the basics of how to shoot: stance, trigger discipline, safety, reloading, all the required information.

  
A familiar interrupts you while you're going over when they should have the safety on, but your pistol quickly reduces it to nothing.

  
Sayaka seems to be barely retaining her anger the entire time, but Madoka is much more emotionally complex. She's on the verge of tears at the start, most likely due to your argument with Sayaka, but that eventually morphs into a mix of fear and awe. Like she can't decide if your the most badass person ever, or the scariest bitch to ever walk the earth.

  
"And it goes without saying," you say as you finish up your lesson. "That if either one of you shoots me, I'll cut out your spine and feed you to the witch, piece by piece. Do you understand?"

  
They both nod their heads, and you decide to stop wasting time.

  
You set a brisk pace, the two civilian girls struggling to keep up with you as you head towards the witch.

 

* * *

 

  
It takes a few minutes, but you're eventually standing in front of a door. Your theory had been right, familliers popping up more and more frequently as you neared the witch.

  
You push the door open, only to be greeted with another door. This one does the honors for you, opening itself to reveal another door.

  
"All hail the Witch of Doors," you say to the barrier. "Currently using her strongest attack, in which she bores her prey to death."

  
A few doors later, the pattern is broken as the door opens to reveal an arena, sickly green and yellow.

  
In the middle is the witch, who you must say bears an odd resemblance to a pale eggplant with sludge for a head, thorny vines for feet, and wings on it’s back.

  
It’s inside what looks to be an arena, rotating rings of different patterns creating a half-sphere with the witch in the middle.  
The three of you are standing on an outcrop of what you hope is marble a few meters above the ground. The wall slopes where it meets the floor, curving to make the arena whole and connected.

  
The witch roars at you, an eldritch sound that couldn’t possibly come from a human being. Well, maybe Kharn could replicate it. You wouldn’t put it past her.

  
"You look like the ugliest fucking pokemon ever made,” you say to the witch "You look like a preschool art project made of crap!"

  
With your pre-fight vocal warm-ups complete, you jump down to face the witch. The drop's only a few feet down, and you turn to Sayaka and Madoka once you're landed.

  
"You two stay up there, and don't do anything," you say. "You're just as likely to hit me as you are to hit the witch."  
Civilians pacified, you turn back to the witch to find that holy shit it's right in front of you.

  
You leap to the side, pulling out a heavy machine gun to go with your anti-material rifle.

  
You go to one knee as you land, both weapons pointed at the witch.

  
"Eat my lead ass, you non-euclidean sack of shit."

  
You open fire on the monstrosity, bullets filling the air as it weathers the onslaught. It seems to be in pain, but you don't see any blood being drawn, Or whatever the witch equivalent to blood is.

  
It slowly advances, and you begin to swear to yourself.

  
What the fuck is this thing made of? The rifle was designed to destroy military grade equipment, and it couldn't even scratch it! The machine gun seems to be having the most effect, if only by holding the witch back with the sheer amount of lead it’s spitting out.

  
You debate taking out something even bigger, but the small size of the arena is working to your disadvantage. Any explosives powerful enough to do any damage would most likely blow you and your two protectees to smithereens, or at least give you some serious internal bleeding.

  
Your thoughts grind to a halt at roughly the same time as your machine gun, and you look down to see that you're out of ammo.

  
You throw it too the side and pull out a new one as quick as you can, but you aren't quick enough. The witch rushes you as you jump backwards, rifle still firing in a desperate attempt to keep it away. You land to its right, raising you new machine gun level with the witch when you feel a sudden snap in your leg.

  
One of the witch's thorny vines has stuck your right leg. You watch in slow motion as your knee presses backwards, straining against the joint, and finally snaps, bending the wrong way.

  
Mother _fucker_ , that hurts.

You want to laugh at the irony, but a cry of pain tears itself out of you throat instead.

  
You, Murderface, have just been kneecapped.

  
You collapse to the floor, remaining leg unprepared to support your entire body. You can hear Madoka screaming your name, but your focus is on how you’ll get away from the witch.

  
Thinking quickly, you take a motorcycle out of you shield and grab on to its handles as you try to stand on your good leg. Revving the engine, you hop onto the bike and ride away from the witch.

  
It seems that the burst of speed was just that; a burst. It’s lumbers around, trying to get a good look at you, but none of its vines come close to touching you.

  
You keep the bike going until you hit the sloped wall, going upwards to the ledge where Madoka and Sayaka reside.

  
“Get back!” you say, as you cut the acceleration and position the bike to land on the ledge. They comply, luckily for them, and you slide off the bike as it falls to its side.

  
“Chiaki!” says Madoka, on the verge of tears. “Your leg! Your knee, it’s broken! Are you okay?”

  
“I’m fucking peachy,” you say. Pulling out a third machine gun, you hand it to Sayaka. She nearly drops it, and stares at you with a mix of anger and concern.

  
“Sayaka,” you say. “You shoot the witch. Use bursts, and don’t let it get close. Madoka, you make sure she doesn’t run out of ammo. Keep feeding it in, and tell me if you’re running low.”

  
“So much for not fighting the thing,” says Sayaka. But despite her complaints, she leans the gun on the motorcycle and prepares to fire. Madoka keeps staring at you, obviously more concerned with your wellbeing then the fucker that got you like this, but you wave her off.

  
“I need a bit of time to think,” you say. “Plans don’t come out of nowhere.”

  
“But doesn’t it hurt?” she says.

  
“Of course,” you say.” But it’s not the worst I’ve had, and I have a secret weapon.” Noticing her confusion, you pull a plastic bottle and a bottle of Kong from your shield.

  
“Painkillers and booze,” you say. “A lady’s best friends, aside from explosives and gunpowder.”

  
Popping a few pills into your mouth, you take a swig of whiskey to help it get down your throat.

  
Madoka seems concerned for your well being yet content with your explanation, enough that she goes over to where Sayaka’s ready to let the machine gun rip.

  
And rip it does.

  
You’re lucky you’re used to thinking in this kind of racket, because you need a plan to beat this thing.

  
Give everyone a machine gun or two and hit it till it stops moving?

The witch doesn’t really seem damaged by the bullets, only slowed down, so you doubt that plan could do any lasting harm.

  
Time stop and fuck it up?

  
That might work, but you really don’t want to give Pinky an opening to fuck around in the past. She’s only come to assault you in your timestop, and you’re not going to let her in to this time period.

  
Bring out some of your more explosive devices? Again, anything big enough to work would also hit you three.

  
So how could you get out of the blast range…

  
When you put it like that, it’s obvious.

  
Rotating your oddly silent shield, you grab on hop onto a large motorcycle before it can fall off the edge. Madoka turns to stare at the pure white bike, but Sayaka’s smart enough to keep her eyes on the target. It says a lot about her that that’s the smartest thing you’ve ever seen her do.

  
“Madoka, Sayaka,” you say. “Hop on this, and hold on tight. Or don’t, if you want to make my life easier.”

  
Madoka gets on first, arms wrapped tight around your waist. You don’t like it, being touched by someone you barely know, but you’re willing to accept the necessity of it. Sayaka looks back to make sure everyone else is on before abandoning the

machine gun and jumping on behind Madoka.

  
You tip the bike off the edge the second she’s secure, and race full speed down the wall. Some smaller familiars scatter as you approach, but most are run over.

  
The witch roars, vines lashing out, but you’re able to steer your way around them.

  
This requires a few fast turns, none of which amuse the two girls behind you.

  
“Oh fuck,” says Sayaka. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. We’re going to die!” Madoka is silent, face pressed against your back.  
You make it past the witch, still gaining speed as you make your way to the other wall.

  
“This is gonna be bumpy,” you say.

  
“IT WAS SMOOTH BEFORE THIS?” screams Sayaka. “AAAAAAHHHH!” Yeah, it’s just intelligible babble at this point.

  
You tighten your grip as you hit the point where floor becomes wall.

  
A quick check behind confirms that miraculously, all riders are still in their seats.

  
“Holy shit.” says Sayaka. “We’re alive!”

  
“That’s great,” you say. “Now we just have to kill the witch without blowing us to kingdom come.”

  
“Goddamn it,” says Sayaka. Honestly, you think that sums things up quite nicely.

  
You continue up the wall, momentum slowly draining away as you get further and further from the witch. A few meters ahead of you, one of the rings breaks off to create a sort of ramp. If you hit it, you’ll be propelled up into the air, most likely landing on the other side of the wall.

  
Lucky, then, that hitting it is exactly what you do.

  
Madoka holds you even tighter and Sayaka’s screams of terror reach a new pitch as the three of you are sent upside down in the air.

  
While the latter is somewhat amusing, the former reaction presents a bit of a problem.  
“Let go of me,” you say to Madoka. “Unless you want this bike to be knocked off course by the kickback of a missile launcher or two.”

  
Madoka stiffens and hugs you even closer, before reluctantly releasing you into the world.

  
Free, you kick off the bike and pull two missile launchers out of your shield.

  
Pointing them at the witch, you have a bit of an epiphany.

  
You are currently inside a pocket dimension, over a hundred feet up in the air, pointing two state-of-the-art missile launchers at the most over-ripe eggplant to ever exist, while two civilians scream their heads off on an upside-down motorcycle that you drove straight up a wall.

  
Long story short, your life has gone from weird to fucked up, and it ahd the gall to do so while you were completely sober.

  
Fucking why?

  
This question still haunts your mind as you pull both the triggers, being pushed backwards by the knockback. Seconds later, the witch is engulfed in a massive explosion as the missiles hit their mark.

  
A wave of heat washes over you, but the phisical force of the explosion is barely felt. You turn, grabbing the handlebars of the bike and dragging yourself onto it while Sayaka just keeps screaming.

  
The bike hits the wall at a good enough angle, and you let gravity do the rest of the work as the three of you plumet towards the ground.

  
Unfortunately, it seems as though you made a small oversight in your plan.

  
The labyrinth begins to fade in and out of reality, collapsing without a witch to support it.. Normally this would be a good sign, proof that you no longer have to worry about the witch, but it takes on a whole different meaning when you’re seventy feet in the air, and kind of need the slope provided by the arena to avoid crashing into the ground.

  
You debate telling the two terrified teens behind you to hold on tight, but Sayaka’s been screaming loudly enough that you’re willing to let her deal with it herself.

  
You hit the gas, speeding down the wall even faster than you were previously, and you can almost imagine gravity itslef giving you a conspiratal wink in recognition of you going super fucking fast down a giant wall.

  
Madoka lets out a squeak at the accelaration, and Sayaka continues the time-honored tradition of screaming her head off.  
You hit the slope and start going horzontally just as the barrier fades into nothing. The three of you seem to be in some sort of large alleyway, which is good for keeping your cover, but most certainly not good for the whole “not crashing into a wall at 250 miles per hour” thing.

  
You kill the accelaration and pull the bike into a sharp left turn, narrowly avoiding the wall that some fucked-up architecture student put right in front of you. This puts you a few seconds away from speeding onto the street, and probably running over a few joggers, but you manage to avoid that by continuing the hard left, pointing yourself directly at the other wall. You avoid the problems posed by that decision by taking another hard leftt, and who are you kidding you’re just going in a fucking circle.

  
Momentum bleeds off as you go around and around, and eventually pull the bike to a screeching halt before you can get vomit on your back.

  
You hop off and sit down against the wall, no worse for wear yet still sporting a broken knee. Sayaka and Madoka stumble off, obviously shaken by what just occurred.

  
“What the fuck...” says Sayaka. “That was the most awesome yet scariest thing that I’ve ever done.” She then proceeds to vomit, probably from a combination of nasuea, terror, and also the fact that she just took a look at you leg.

  
Madoka takes a few deep breaths before leaning down and trying to hug you, but you grab her shoulders before she can  
“Chiaki,” she says, seemingly unconcerned by you pushing her away. “That was amazing! The way you jumped off the bike, and got us out of the barrier, and oh God is your leg fine?”

  
“Feel like running a fucking marathon,” you say. “The painkillers make it hurt less than it should, but I won’t be using it any time soon.”

  
It will probably take a few days to regenerate, as long as you avoid getting into fights. Well, as long as fights avoid getting into you. Wait, no-

  
“Holy fuck, transfer student,” says Sayaka. “I saw you get hit, but-fuck!”

  
“Just give it a few days to regenerate,” you say. “A hospital would just raise too many questions. Also, if you have any crutches I can borrow, that’ll be helpful.”

  
You try to stand up on your good leg, but all hope of walking is dashed when you collapse the second you bad leg touches the floor.

  
“How will you get home?” says Madoka. “You can’t walk, and you’re too young to drive home…”

  
Her eyes harden, and she gently grabs your shoulder before you can push her off.

  
“Sayaka and I will help you home,” she says.

  
“And once we’re there,” says Sayaka, “You can explain what the fuck just happened. You don’t have any exuse for holding out on us now that we’re not on a time limit.”

  
Unfortunately, she has a point.

  
You sigh, and offer your arms to be places over their shoulders.

  
They comply, picking you up and following your directions.

  
Now that the two of them are safe and sound, you can turn your mind to more important things.

  
Mainly, how annoying they are.

  
This is going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this took way too long to write.


	3. Fucking Normies

Your name is Chiaki Matsuda, and you are getting real fucking tired of the two civilians helping you to your apartment. The only thing keeping you from kneecapping them and being on your way is the fact they're the only reason you even got this far.  
  
And you guess that Kyubey would make a contract with them, thereby dooming them to a short, painful life all because you couldn’t keep it in your shield, but it’s mainly the first one.  
  
“Can you fit anything in your shield?” Sayaka says.  
  
“Yes,” you say.  
  
“Even if it’s bigger than the shield itself?” Madoka says.  
  
“Yes” you say.  
  
Dear God, it’s like idiots in stereo.  
  
You only have to deal with them for a few more minutes before you eventually come across your apartment. Unfortunately, this raises a new problem.  
  
Namely, how the fuck you’re going to undo all these locks when you can’t stand by yourself.  
  
You raise this concern to Madoka and Sayaka, but they just seem confused.  
  
“But…” says Madoka. “Can’t one of us open it? It can’t be that complicated.”  
  
“That’s a great idea,” you say. “Let’s just give my keys to anyone, even though the unlocking  
sequence is one of the best parts of the security. What was your next plan, give it to someone on the street?”  
  
“You seriously think we’re going to steal from you?” says Sayaka. “Madoka couldn't steal cookies from a jar, and you’re the scariest person I’ve ever met.”  
  
“Exactly,” you say. “I’m the scariest, most dangerous person you’ve met, and breaking into my apartment is the quickest way to end up in the newspaper obituary. It’s so stupid, it’s almost suicidal. That makes it the most likely thing for you to do.”  
  
Sayaka growls, but she refrains from any more balk-talk. Looks like she has basic learning skills, what a surprise.  
  
“As for Madoka,” you say, turning your head to the other side. “She won’t try to do anything like that, but do you really think she’ll keep quiet if another magical girl starts with some real interrogation tactics?”  
  
“Holy shit,” says Sayaka. “You really think they’ll torture us? For how to get into your apartment?”  
You can’t tell if she’s surprised at how brutal Megucas can be, or at how paranoid you are.  
  
“It depends on the girl,” you say. “It’s the smart thing to do, but we aren’t magical because of our good judgment.”  
  
“But that probably won’t happen, right?” Sayaka says.  
  
“If you keep asking stupid questions after I give you an answer, I’ll replace my broken knee with your much better one.”  
  
She seems to take the hint, and the three of you begin maneuvering to the door.  
  
It takes a while, but you’re eventually able to put your many keys into your many locks, and turn them all in the right order, all while the other two look away. Within a minute, you’re sitting on your Chair as Sayaka and Madoka state at you from the couch.  
  
They seem to want an explanation, but neither of them are brave enough to actually ask you.  
You figure you can draw this out for a few more minutes, and grab a bottle of Kong and a pack of smokes to pass that time.  
  
Once again, your alcoholism is your downfall.  
  
“Aren’t you a bit young for that?” says Sayaka. She looks equal parts intrigued and disgusted by the repugnant odor of booze and smoke, but you offer her some anyway.  
  
She refuses, as does Madoka, so you no longer have any excuse to avoid the socials  
  
Shit.  
  
“Maybe,” you say. “But the way I see it, I’m owed a drink or two.”  
  
“But isn’t it unhealthy?” says Madoka.  
  
“Unhealthy?” you say. “Dokes, everything about being a magical girl is unhealthy. If I love long enough for this to bite me in the ass, then I’m doing something wrong.”  
  
Madoka and Sayaka turn to look at each other, confusion slowly turning to horror.  
  
“With the amount you're drinking, your ass will be bitten in a year or two,” says Sayaka.  
  
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Madoka says. “You’ll live to be an adult, right?”  
  
You say nothing, but your silence is an answer in itself.  
  
“Oh my god,” says Sayaka. “Is it really that bad?”  
  
“Yeah,” you say. “Most magical girls die in the first few months. If you’re lucky, you can make it past the first year with most of your friends dead. If you’re really lucky, you can spend a few years alone, slowly going insane as everyone you care about dies and abandons you, all because you were stupid enough to make a contract.”  
  
Sayaka is still processing this revelation, but Madoka reacta much quicker. She begins sniffling , tears falling down her cheeks.  
  
“That’s awful,” she says. “Magical girls are going to die so young, even though they must do so much good? That’s too cruel!”  
  
She stands up, still crying as she crosses the coffee table to get to your chair. She puts her arms out, about to envelop you in a hug, but you put your hand between the two of you.  
  
“D- please don't,” you say. “I’m really not a touchy feely person. I don’t really do hugs.”  
  
For some reason, this just makes her cry harder. She goes back to the couch, and Sayaka envelops her in a hug.  
  
Fuck, you need a drink. Maybe the bottle of Kong was really more of a long-term investment. You take a swig, the burn in your throat a pleasant reminder of less complicated times, when you didn’t have to juggle the emotions of two middle-school lemmings.  
  
The three of you sit like that for a few minutes, Sayaka hugging Madoka while the pink girl cries, and you taking a drink every once in a while.  
  
Eventually, Madoka’s sobbing simmers down, and she turns back to you.  
  
“Chiaki,” she says, voice suddenly serious. “How does this happen? Where do magical girls come from, and why do they die so quickly?”  
  
You sigh, and take an extra-long swig as you consider her questions.  
  
“Well,” you say. “To answer where magical girls come from… When a mommy and daddy love each other very much…”  
  
“This is serious,” says Sayaka. “Don’t fuck around with us.”  
  
Alright, alright. The look on their faces was worth it, though.  
  
“Long story short, there are some fuckers called the Incubators. They look like plushies, but they’re actually lying bitches who want you dead. They’ll offer you a contract, and give you one wish if you become a magical girl. It can be anything you want, but most people waste it. After all, they don’t know they’re selling their souls.”  
  
“Their souls?” Sayaka says. “You mean like the Incubators get it once you die?”  
  
“Nah,” you say. “You still have your soul. They just mess with it a bit.”  
  
You pull out your souls gem, happy to see it the regular deep purple.  
  
“This is my soul gem. When I use magic, it gets dark.”  
  
You don’t have to go on.  
  
“What the fuck…” says Sayaka. “That… that’s you?”  
  
“They don’t tell magical girls about this, do they.” says Madoka.  
  
“They don’t,” you say. “They don’t mention a lot of things. Like where witches come from, or what happens when your soul gem gets full of grief.”  
  
The two of them stare at you, and you get the feeling they have a clue.  
  
“No…” says Madoka. “That thing you killed was… was a magical girl?”  
  
“No,” you say. “It used to be a magical girl. I've known girls who turned into witches and trust me, it’s better for everyone if you just kill them as quickly as possible.”  
  
The two of them stare at the ground, eyes wide.  
  
“There’s no way that can be real,” says Sayaka. “That’s it? One wish, you spend a few months fighting insane ex-magical girls, then you die…”  
  
“How could anyone do something like this?” Says Madoka.  
  
“Kyubey’s a piece of shit,” you say. “It doesn’t feel things like we do. It just imitates us in order to make girls trust it.”  
  
_“Actually, what I do is not trickery, merely-”_  
  
It takes you less than a second to pull a pistol from your shield and shoot Kyubey off your windowsill.  
  
“That’s Kyubey,” you say. “He may look like a plushy that you can buy in the dollar store for two dollars, but he’s a manipulative asswipe.” You chuckle, realizing what you’ve just done. “Hah, the fucker tricked me into shooting my goddamn window. Mutant fuckbucket.”  
  
The two of them stare at your shattered window, where his body used to be.  
  
“Did you just kill him?” says Sayaka. She seems to focused on the whole 'killing an innocent looking animal' thing, but Madoka looks like she’s had some sort of revelation.  
  
“I wish,” you say. “It’s got bodies for days. Hell, I spent most of the afternoon hunting them to pass time.”  
  
“So that’s what happened at the mall!” Madoka says. “You got one of his bodies, and I ran away into a witches barrier!”  
  
“Got it in one,” you say. “Now, if you don’t have any more questions, you can head back to wherever it is you live.”  
  
“You’re kicking us out?” Sayaka says. “You just drop this on us and tell us to scram?”  
  
“Of course not,” you lie. “But I’ve got to do some surgery on my knee, and I doubt you want to see that.”  
  
“Surgery?” Says Madoka. “But I thought you said it would heal on its own?”  
  
“It will,” you say. “But my kneecap is currently in a few dozen pieces, most of which are still in my knee. If I leave it to regenerate, it’ll heal over them and leave me with a bad knee for the rest of my life, or at least until I have to regrow it fully. So now, I have to open up my knee and pick out all the bone shards.”  
  
The two of them look disgusted by your frank description of the day ahead of you, and immediately grab their bags. Sayaka leaves as soon as possible, but Madoka hangs around for a bit.  
  
“Hey, Chiaki?” She says, hands clasped in front of her. “Being a magical girl… Is it really such an awful life?”  
  
“I don’t want repeat myself,” you say. “You’ll drift away from all your civilian friends, your parents won’t be able to understand you, and you’ll have to watch everyone you care about die horribly. You’ve got a family, and people who care about you. That’s more than a lot of people can say, so don’t throw it away over some selfless bullshit.”  
  
“Chiaki, I, I’m sorry,” she says. “Not for my question, but, for your life. That you have to go through this every day.”  
  
“You’re sorry for my life?” You say. “What, do you mean you’re sorry that I have to wake up every day and see myself in the mirror? That I’m stuck living life as me, of all people? Do you think I don’t know that already?”  
  
“No!” Madoka says, panic filling her voice. “I didn’t mean that! I meant that you don’t deserve to be so sad and angry all the time.”  
  
You sigh, lighting up another cigarette.  
  
“Fuck, I, I know what you meant.” You say, “I just, I want to be alone. It’s better for everyone that way.”  
  
“Chiaki…” Madoka says, trailing off into silence. “You deserve to have people who care about you.”  
  
“No,” you say. “I don’t.”  
  
She looks to be on the verge of tears, and you remember Kyoko’s speech about making cute girls cry.  
  
“How about you try it?” You say. “And in a couple of weeks, you can see if you still think that.”  
  
She smiles, and you get the feeling you’ve just stepped on a landmine. A landmine filled with unwarranted and unwanted hugs.  
  
“I’m sure I will,” she says. “See you tomorrow, Chiaki.”  
  
She exits your apartment, and you prepare for the painful task ahead of you.  
  
“I was being rhetorical…” You say, lying to even yourself.

 

* * *

  
  
As the night draws closer, you find your stomach starting to growl.  
  
You suppose it makes sense for you to be hungry, as you were too culinarily incompetent to prepare any breakfast or lunch.  
  
Nevertheless, night finds you wandering the streets of Mitakihara in your search for food, limping from street to street.  
  
You’ve passed by dozens of good restaurants by now, but you don’t care about them.  
  
You’re not looking for sushi or pizza or whatever else this weird-ass city has.  
  
You’re looking for pancakes.  
  
You can’t smell any yet, but you know you’ll have to find them sometime.  
  
Sometime, as it turns out, it not even remotely close to when you left your apartment.  
  
You’ve been driving around for hours, and you’ve had to change motorcycles twice now, since you can’t pay for fuel. You believe you’re in the next city over, Kazasomething, but you honestly don’t care.  
As long as there are pancakes, you’re good to go.  
  
You slow down as you catch a whiff of the heavenly scent, and follow your nose to a poorly lit side street.  
  
You hit the brakes, stopping at the sign in front of you.  
  
There are pancakes alright, but for once they aren’t your greatest concern.  
  
Right behind the 24 hour pancake house is a sign that reads “Hanegawa Ramen.”  
  
It’s Midori’s place.  
  
You get off your bike, stuff it back in your shield, and walk inside.  
  
The walls and floor are made of polished wood, and a tall man with green hair is cleaning bowls as you walk in.  
  
He looks up, obviously not expecting customers so late.  
  
“Oh, hello,” he says. “Welcome to my family’s ramen shop. Would you like a seat?”  
  
You nod, and turn to look at the assortment of tables. There’s quite a few, all of them empty save for one.  
  
It’s occupied by two girls, one with red hair and the other with green. They’re chatting away as they slurp up their massive quantities of ramen, the smaller green girl laughing at something the red girl says.  
  
You recognize them, or at least one of them. The red haired girl is Kyoko Sakura, your annoyingly persistent best friend. You don’t recognize the green girl, but you assume she’s a sister or something.  
Their table has a third, unclaimed chair, and you limp over to sit in it.  
  
The conversation stops as you sit down, and the two of them stare at you.  
  
“Nice kid,” you say. “You know, there’s a reason people tell you to use protection, but I guess you know that now.”  
  
The two of them stare at you, confused, but Kyoko quickly realizes what you mean.  
  
“What the fuck are you saying?” Says Kyoko, face growing red. “That Yuma, she’s my-fuck no!”  
  
You laugh, and she just grows angrier.  
  
“I’m just fucking with ya.” You say. “I assume she’s a kid sister or something?”  
  
“N-well, yeah, basically.”  
  
“Cute. I’m Chiaki Matsuda, and I assume you’re Kyoko Sakura?”  
  
“How do you know me?” She says. “I’ve sure as hell never met you before.”  
  
When in doubt, stroke Kyoko’s ego.  
  
“Who hasn’t heard of the great Kyoko Sakura?” You say.  
  
“Well, I guess I am a pretty huge badass,” she says. “It makes sense that you’d hear about me.”  
  
She pauses to slurp at her ramen, and Yuma uses the lull in conversation to lean towards you. She sniffs, scrunching her nose at your scent.  
  
“You smell weird,” says Yuma.  
  
“You look weird,” you say.  
  
She shrugs, conceding the point, and you silently rejoice in your victory.  
  
You have (just barely) beaten an small child in a battle of wits.  
  
Truly, you are the genius of your era.  
  
Your congratulatory musings are interrupted by a cough from behind you, and you turn around. You’ve got a verbal lashing prepared for whoever decided to intrude, but it dies out once you see who’s there.  
  
“Are you ready to order?” Midori says, holding a pad and pencil.  
  
You’re lucky you don’t have a cigarette, or it would have fallen out of your mouth.  
  
She’s here.  
  
Of course she’s here, it’s her place! And now you’re just staring at her, looking like an idiot. Order something!  
  
“Y-yes,” you say. “I’ll have the, uhh, the hakata ramen.”  
  
“Sure thing,” she says, writing it down on the pad. “Nothing else?”  
  
You shake your head, and she smiles at you and leaves. You stare at her retreating form, wondering what on earth you should do.  
  
Unfortunately, Kyoko misinterprets your gaze as something else.  
  
“Like the view?” Kyoko says, a mocking grin on her face.  
  
“I mean, yeah,” you say, turning back to the table. “She’s pretty cute.”  
  
It’s a lie, (well, not the part about her being cute, the part about that being the reason why you’re staring at her,) but what are you supposed to say? ‘No, she’s actually my sort-of girlfriend from the future who doesn’t remember me, and I was unprepared to see her?’  
  
Much easier to tell a different truth, and say she has a nice butt.  
  
“Y’know, I didn’t expected you to just admit it like that,” says Kyoko. “Whenever I say that, they get all flustered and go on about how they don’t like girls, even though they were blatantly checking out some smoking hot chick.”  
  
“I hope you don’t do the same thing,” you say. “That would just be embarrassing.”  
  
Kyoko, chuckles, pointing her chopsticks at you.  
  
“You know, I kinda like you,” she says.  
  
You freeze, eyes wide.  
  
This is the wrong direction, no, no, she cannot like you, she is your bro and bros do not hook up with bros!  
  
“What are you..” She trails off, deep in thought as she begins to realize what she said. “Oh shit! No, I don’t mean I like-like you, I just mean that you seem like a cool person!”  
  
That’s good, because you’re pretty sure there’s something in the bro code about travelling back in time to hook up with your bro. Sounds like something it would touch on.  
  
Yuma’s staring at two of you, confused by your banter as she eats her noodles.  
  
“You two will be very good friends,” she says. “You’re both so weird that you have to get along."  
  
You sigh, and wish you could pull out a bottle of whiskey without making the Hanegawas faint.  
  
This is going to be a long night, but you find you’re not too intimidated by it.

 

* * *

   
  
An hour later, you’re parting ways with Kyoko and heading towards your apartment.  
  
The experience was rather fun, just sitting around and joking with Kyoko, but you leave with a sense of unease.  
  
Kyoko hadn’t been acting like herself.  
  
She had been more tightly wound, angrier and more cautious than the girl you know.  
  
She's still Kyoko, but a few of the things that made her that person are just… gone.  
  
Your musing is broken by a flash of magic a few streets in front of you, and you reflexively pull out a pistol.  
  
You can hear footsteps, but the pitch-black night makes it impossible to see who’s approaching.  
  
They draw closer and you move to the side, hopefully forcing them to walk under a streetlight if they want to go straight towards you.  
  
They comply, and you nearly drop your gun as you see the familiar golden hair.  
  
“You must be the magical girl I sensed earlier,” says Mami Tomoe.  
  
It seems that the universe has decided to give you one good thing in your life.  
  
Hopefully, at least.


	4. All that was Old Is New, So Where Does That Leave Me?

Your name is Chiaki Matsuda, and you are staring at your personal blond goddess of victory. She doesn’t know who you are, of course, but that doesn’t make her any less amazing. It does make your stomach twist, but you chalk that up to indigestion.  
  
"Are you? The magical I sensed, I mean," says Mami, flawlessly recovering from a minor verbal slip up.  
  
“That would probably be me,” you say. “There was a witch, and I fought it. You sensed that whole thing, I guess.”  
  
“I guess I did,” she says. “Was anyone hurt by the witch?”  
  
“Nah, just me. There were two civilians, but they were fine.”  
  
That’s good. Not that you got hurt, but that the civilians were fine. Say, do you know if they were potential magical girls?”  
  
Were they? You had never bothered to check, and they could very well be normal humans. If you had just traumatized two girls for nothing, you were going to make sure you woke up with a pounding headache tomorrow morning. Wait, no, you hadn't fucked  _that_  up.  
  
“Actually, I think they were,” you say. “They could see and hear the fuzzball fucker just fine, so he’s probably after them.”  
  
“The fuzzball...” Says Mami, trailing off. “Do you mean Kyubey?”  
  
“Are there any other lying shitstains I should know about?”  
  
She frowns, and you get the feeling that you’ve just made a grave mistake. “Kyubey is a good friend of mine. You really shouldn’t talk about him in such a way.”  
  
“Kyubey? Good friend? What, does he give you dead teenagers on your birthday?”  
  
Mami grits her teeth. “You are being quite rude. Kyubey is one of my oldest and greatest friends, and I won’t just sit here while you badmouth him. There wouldn’t be magical girls without him, and then who would fight the witches?”  
  
Your eyes go wide, and your breath hitches. So Mami doesn’t know where witches come from, huh. She really has been tricked by Kyubey. Either way, you’re not going to be the one to break it to her.  
  
“Look, let’s just change the subject,” you say. “You think he’s great, and I think he’s the worst thing since non-alcoholic beer. We’re just going to piss each other off like this.”  
  
Mami swallows her frown, trying to maintain the appearance of civility. “That...” she says, voice still tense. “What would you like to talk about?”  
  
Huh. You never actually thought this far ahead. What did you want to talk about? “Wel, uh, do you come here often?” you say.  
  
“No, actually, I don’t,” she says. “This is a bit too close to Kazamino for my liking. I’m usually around central Mitakihara.”  
  
That worked? Maybe you weren’t as bad with people as you thought...  
  
Nah, it was probably just luck.  
  
“Then why are you here?” you ask. “Felt like a breath of fresh air? Decided this part of the city had gone without your magnificence for too long?”  
  
“No,” she responds, indignant. “I was looking for someone. Kyubey said there was someone  _dangerous_  around here. Someone violent.”  
  
That- well, you guess he isn’t  _lying_ , per se. In fact, that was an entirely accurate description of you. Unflattering, sure, but then most descriptions of you were.  
  
“Don’t look at me,” you say. “I haven’t killed anyone. Recently.”  
  
She narrows her eyes. “Excuse me, but you  _are_  joking, correct? If so, it’s not a very good one.”  
  
“Oh, um, sorry,” you mutter. You can’t think of anything else to say, at least nothing that wouldn’t creep her out, so you use your well-honed skill of staying silent.  
  
“So, how long have you been a magical girl?” Mami asks.  
  
Shit. Why do people keep asking you these questions? “For about... maybe two years,” you say. “Truth be told, I can’t remember most of it, though whether that’s the amnesia or the booze I can’t tell.”  
  
Mami blanches at that, face souring. Dammit, can’t you get through a single conversation without fucking it up? Well, time to salvage this conversation the only way you know how.  
  
“Do you like pancakes?” you ask. “I, uh, I really like pancakes.”  
  
Mami frowns. "They are... okay, I guess. Personally, I prefer tea and cake.”  
  
...  
  
Oh.  
  
“Well, it was cool meeting you,” you say. “But I should go. School, and stuff.”  
  
“It’s good to know that there’s another magical girl in the city,” says Mami. “Farewell, miss Matsuda.”  
  
You’ve already begun walking away, head low. You transform once you’re around the corner, pulling a motorcycle out of your shield and letting the engine roar to life beneath you. Your mind wanders as you ride down the winding roads, wind blowing through your hair. Sayaka, Kyoko, even Mami, they’re all totally different than how you remember them. They’re just... silhouettes of who they once were, the same on the outside but so very different once you take a closer look. They’re...  
  
They’re not the people who called themselves your friends.  
  
For as long as you can remember, you’ve only ever dragged them down. How many times did you wonder why Kyoko kept going on pub crawls with you, why Mami would bother making you breakfast every day? How many times have you thought that their lives would be better without you?  
  
And now, you have a chance to set things right. To cut yourself out of their lives before they ever meet you. You lick your lips, and laugh to no one.  
  
Victory tastes like shit, you admit to yourself, though that’s probably just the years of smoking fucking up your taste buds. Serves you right.  
  
With that in mind, you make your way back home.  
  


* * *

  
The next day is no better than the last, a cold drink and an empty apartment your only comforts. The walk to school is uneventful and tedious, made worse by your bad leg. You ‘acquired’ a pair of crutches from some poor soul, the ‘who’ lost to your hazy, booze-addled memory. Your entrance into the classroom is no big show, but people quiet down nevertheless. You suppose walking in on your second day with a pair of crutches will do that.  
  
They’re all silent as you... Walk? Crutch? Limp? As you limp over to your desk. You sit down without any trouble, glaring at anyone staring at you. They seem to understand that, because everyone hurriedly resumes their conversations.  
  
You sit in silence, contemplating why you thought it necessary to come to this glamorous shit-hole, when the teacher finally walks into the class.  
  
“Hello, everyone!” she says, breathing quickly. “I’m  _so_  sorry I’m late!”  
  
She goes through the usual routine, telling you to stand and bow and all that, and she stares at you as you lean on the desk.  
  
“Miss Matsuda?” she says. “What happened to your leg?”  
  
“An eggplant broke it,” you say. Miss Somethingorather blinks, taken aback. “It’s fine, I blew it up. The eggplant, I mean, not my leg. That would just be stupid.”  
  
“O-okay...” says Miss Saltmine. “A... and you..”  
  
“Yes,” you say, sighing. “I understand it about as well as you do.”  
  
“I...” she rubs her forehead, taking a deep breath before beaming at the class. “Putting that behind us, I hope we all have a good day!”  
  
Ahh, telling the truth. It was a good tactic, with a life like yours, and tended to leave people so confused that they decided you were more trouble than you were worth. You liked anything that got people to leave you alone.  
  
The lesson she’s teaching is uneventful, exceptional only in how boring it is. You tune out the chatter and incessant droning, and instead think of what you’ll do for lunch. You didn’t pack anything, but your shield will probably spit something out.  
...God, this is boring. At least you used to be able to get wasted, when you weren’t slaughtering your way through some poor sap’s building.  
  
“Now, Nakazawa!” the teacher says. “What’s- oh, he’s not here today...” Her eyes search the class before settling on you. “Miss Matsuda, what goes better with eggs, apple juice or orange juice?”  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “Just get drunk and you won’t be able to tell the difference.”  
  
“I... Thank you for the... ‘advice’, Miss Matsuda, but that would be day drinking.”  
  
“Day drinking is just night-drinking in advance,” you say. “Day drinking means you won’t have to drink as much in the evening. It’s productive.”  
  
“That’s... one way of looking at it,” she says. “Well, continuing on-”  
  
The rest of the lesson is much the same, and you jolt when the bell eventually rings. You slowly rise out of your seat, grabbing your crutches and going to limp out of the classroom when a voice stops you in your tracks.  
  
“Chiaki!” says Madoka, somehow cheerful. “You should join us for lunch!” Behind her, you can see Sayaka frantically shake her head.  
  
“I’ve, uh, I’ve got my own things,” you say. “Like... getting drunk and skipping class! I should do that.”  
  
Her face falls. “B-but Chiaki,” she says. “You, you said you’d let me- that-”  
  
Oh, right. You said you’d “let her care about you” or some sentimental bullshit like that. Why’d you say that, again?  
  
“If you were just-” her voice wavers. “If you were just saying that to make me go away, then-then I-”  
  
Oh, for fuck's sake.  
  
“Yeah, I kinda was,” you say. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m not that great.” Her breath hitches, and you turn away. “Just leave me alone.” You want to say you hope she doesn’t start crying, but you honestly can’t find it within yourself to care, Kyoko's advice about letting cute girls cry be damned.  
  
You just resolved to not fuck with your old friends, no need to go around and make  _new_  ones.  
  
Your exit is made difficult by your crutches, but you manage to clink and clank away with your lack of dignity intact. You don’t hear any sobbing behind you, but you figure that someone as experienced as Madoka has probably learned to keep it down.

 

* * *

 

This roof is way too fucking fancy.  
  
You sit on a convenient bench, looking to the sky as smoke escapes from your lips. There’s a fence along the edge, just as fancy as the rest of it. There’s an ugly feeling in your chest, like your heart is drooping, but you ignore it. Probably just the result of too much booze.  
  
“I can’t believe-” The door opens, and even without seeing who opened it you can that it’s Sayaka. The annoying voice gave it away. She looks up, stopping in her tracks when she sees you.  
  
“T-Transfer student?” she says. “I thought you weren’t-”  
  
“What the fuck are you doing here?” you say.  
  
“Eating lunch?” says Sayaka. “More importantly, what are  _you_ doing here?”  
  
“Having a smoke,” you say. “What, can you not  _see_  now?”  
  
Sayaka growls, stomping towards you. She's scowling, hands balled into fists, and even with your lack of social skills you're able to tell she's angry at you.  
  
“You know what, Matsuda? We need to fucking  _talk._ ”


End file.
